The Sweetest Things


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” You’re so weird.”
” I’m going to pretend I don’t know you right now”
” Please, stop singing. ”
” What are you even talking about? ”
” Where did you learn to dance? The old folks home? ”
” Seriously, mom? ”
This is the process deemed by psychologists as the “transition.” In order to grow up and move in your own directions, you must first establish independence from those who influence you the most. Yeah, whatev’s.
The problem I have with this is that I’ve always felt weird, I have an intense need to fit in, I sing all the time and I rarely even know what I’m talking about most days.  I think I can dance when I’m drunk but let’s get real already, and as for seriousness…..well, that’s a toss up. You hit me where it hurts. Every single time. Not that it’s intended. For the most part you’re the sweetest things! You make me stuff and write me funny notes and stories. If I have a headache, you run me a bath and make me the most delicious mystery sandwiches I’ve ever tasted. You listen to my garden fairy stories and believe that I have “mommy magic” that fixes everything from broken bones to broken hearts and can even take the itch out of a mosquito bite! Still, I constantly question my ability in this role.
I remind you that being weird is great and that you shouldn’t care what other people think as long as you think you’re okay. Sing at the top of your lungs, that’s when the music will heal you.  Dance even if you think you can’t and never take yourself too seriously. Finally and most importantly, appreciate the people, the fun, the beauty and the love that exist for you and only you. And if you’re ever in doubt just look in your heart, for it’s there that you’ll find the sweetest things…
XXXOOO
PS—– YOU are MY heart.

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